I’m starting to think that I owe myself an apology.

As I’ve stated before I’m back in therapy.

A little while back while trying to unpack some stuff and get a better idea of my motivation in life I was given a simple but profound assignment. 

My assignment was to list out times in my life when I felt like someone should have advocated for me and didn’t.

I spent the next week thinking about it…and of course came up with some heartbreaking examples.

But my take away wasn’t I cannot believe that fill in the blank didn’t this or fill in the blank didn’t that….

It was why didn’t you advocate for yourself.

Of course there were times that would have been nearly impossible like when I was a small child. However into my young adult and now well not so young adult life…. I have not been a very good advocate to myself. 

Not advocating for myself when I wasn’t getting what I needed…not advocating for myself when being mistreated….

But worse…

Not advocating for myself… against myself.

As much as it hurts to know that I’ve been mistreated…neglected… harmed… lied about….shamed…. it’s sadder to me that I am guilty of doing all of those things to myself. 

Recently while driving my oldest to school I realized a pretty big truth. I have been guilty on so so many occasions of saying some variation of I have no fight left in me. 

I don’t believe I was knowingly lying about myself.  Over the past five years…especially the past two… I have honestly felt like I was out of fight.  I have been through the ringer emotionally and physically. If I’m being honest I am still going through it.  I have been on my knees more times than I can count…and more times crying in bed at night instead of on my knees because I physically couldn’t get on my knees… begging and pleading with God. I felt like I could not go on another day so so many days.  Then like clockwork the next day would come … and I would go on.

I have had so many days where I wake up and feel like I’m already in the deficit… and then something as simple as a smile from my little guy triggers something in me and I think to myself…OK maybe I can do this. And then I do.

Do I do it well? That’s certainly up for debate. Some days I am like ok I’ve got this.  I can cook a well planned meal and even use up all the salad mix before it becomes something questionable.  Some days I am praying I don’t cry before bedtime and I’m serving chicken nuggets on paper plates yet again.  Admittedly the kids are pretty excited about the chicken nuggets so it’s a win for them.

Some days I’m not sure how I’ve survived the last five years of my life because sometimes it feels like they’ve damn near killed me.  I’ve had more heartbreak, loss, pain,  shame, just complete despair then I could have ever imagined.  But I’m still here. Every day.  I get up.  I show up.  I even fake a smile when I need to,  have mastered the five minute power cry.  I’m still here.

So no more lies. No more uttering the words no more fight left,  because it isn’t true.  No fight left would be easier than what I’m doing now…because I would just stop. Instead I will keep getting up not knowing what lies ahead and I will do so thankfully.  I will continue to start and end my days thankful for all God has given me. I often wonder if I’m more grateful for my life and who I have in it because I know how quickly things can change. Forever isn’t a word I feel completely comfortable with anymore.

So to myself…. I am sorry. I am sorry for all that has happened… and for ever ever doubting how much fight I had in me.